Pyro Peeing Psycho
by Memphis Jin
Summary: James Potter gets locked up for a crime he doesn't really regret and the Dementor which casually goes by his cell seems to have the same opinion. James Potter/Pyromanic!Dementor


**A/N: This is acutally just a translation of my own story called "Verrückterweise verrucht verbrannt". If you'd like to read it in German language, go to fanfiktion. de and search for me. (Pen name: Cainmalsmeer)**

 **Have fun!**

As they finally came to the scene of crime, he stood manically grinning in front of his deed – his biggest practical joke, his feat. It was enormously soothing and funny to hear the screams of those puny purebloods which were burning to death in the house he'd set fire to. The smell in the fresh, warm air – how he loved it!

He went down to his knees and laughed at his Auror mate. He knew him. Longbottom went to school with him and had been in the same house: Gryffindor, which colours resembled those high-raising golden-yellow flames, consuming everything they got a hold onto. James didn't understand the hurly-burly, because, honestly, those _people_ had just been racist idiots and their best feature was that they died in one of _his_ best jokes ever!

Lily cried at the trial and he looked at her for some time, looked at her closely. Why did he choose her? Were the reasons as simplistic as her having fiery red hair and a temper like that of a wild, uncontrollable fire? Yes, seemingly those very exchangeable critics lead him to spend years of his life on that woman, possessing over her like a lovey-dovey dimwit.

What an utter waste of time! He smiled sadly. How many beautiful jokes he could have planned and done in this time. How many buildings would have lit up in a wonderful burning haze...

...truly sad world.

Everybody in Azkaban stared at him indignantly, especially when a couple of rumours were starting to spread. Rumours about James succeeding in setting fire to the hair of a dozen inmates – with magic restraining handcuffs which stripped him off his whole magic, those were. The guards only let him out for his daily feeding and following peeing and pooping session. Security measurements, they called it, because it prevented Potter from fire his shit up. Yeah, that kind of thing happened once in a while. Also, the lingering odour of burnt human waste and paired with the endlessly long laughing fits were put to a stop with letting James Potter out daily.

James' head was hanging undecidedly downwards; he was letting himself dangle from a rusted metal pole some dude had used to commit suicide with. Secretly, the staff hoped that the now twenty-one year-old would also willingly ram his head against the sharply pointed end of the pole until his blood dripped and left a huge puddle. Sadly, they knew how "mentally stable" he was in this case.

It was getting chillier, a Dementor would be coming... well, rather flying near his cell soon. James hated those vile creatures, if only because they were cold and he loved it skin-blistering hot. The individual nearly flight past his cell; only nearly, because it decided to return and grabbed the prison bars with its greyish-pale bony hands.

The Dementor seemed to be watching James.

In this moment, the ex-Gryffindor felt a deep bond between the Dementor and him. Cold air turned at first into neat warmth which then became an even neater burning heat. Little blue flash fires came from the creature's hands and danced up the bars and melted them.

James Potter's heart was beating in the fastest pace there was. He fell in love with the damn Dementor which shared the interest in fires just as he did.

"Brinkmanship... my name is... human-ling" the Dementor hissed with a ghostly voice to James who was drawn to it so much he slipped off the metal pole and came nearer. He took Brinkmanship's hand and with the other one he put off the black hood.

Underneath there were long, jet black hair and a monstrously disfigured face which adorned slightly standing out red eyes, long, pointy, sharp teeth, a split tongue and pointy chin. "Maybe" thought James, "fire isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..."

James' lips kissed Brinkmanship's gruesomely torn ones.

"James Potter is the name, my love!"

Henry Snape eagerly leant forward. He had known his uncle was a pyromaniac psychopath but he'd never heard the whole story until now.

"He lives with his Dementor together since your birth and they put a fire to a building once in a while. All the resident Aurors and even the Ministry of Magic have stopped searching for them. Sometimes you can see a blurry photograph in the Prophet but they have to censor those... now, my son, you are old enough to get this..." said Severus Snape and gave Henry a little parcel.

A letter and a lighter.

 _Dear Henry,_

 _I believe your father has informed you of certain... circumstances when you read this. Huh, Brinkmanship and I have heard from your... predicament with Voldemort. In my life I have gained rather useful knowledge, such as how to beautifully wrap up fiendfyre. Have fun, my child._

\- _James Potter_

On Henry Snape's face there was the same manic grin which was on James' as he performed his biggest practical joke. Oh yes, how much fun he would have with Voldemort and his new little friend who shimmered very tempting in the dimmed light. 


End file.
